Falling Into Forever
by truebluehue88
Summary: Reincarnation AU. Where Reiner and Bertholdt bring back Ymir only to have her executed in front of the two. Bertholdt is reincarnated while Ymir's execution still plays in his head over and over again. He desperately tries to find her until... BeruYumi Fanfic
1. Chapter 1

Bertholdt had known his past. Ever since he was born, pictures would flash in front of his eyes and faces would remain in his head until they all came together into one, everlasting video.

He was a murderer.

Thousands of lives were destroyed by him and his colleagues, all for one man. But that never happened. Instead, they took home one woman who was willing to give herself up for him. Another life lost.

He still remembered her smirk, her tan skin, her short hair that was usually bundled up in a hair clip. He remembered her name, but yet, had no clue what it was. It always sat on the tip of his tongue, wanting to be spat out like some kind of curse.

And when he would finally know the name, pictures of her being ripped to shreds by those _things._ Blood, tears, a piercing shriek he never knew she could possess. All of it would curse him. All because of his life choices in his past life.

His best friend had remembered as well. He was a murderer as well, and he regretted it as much as Bertholdt. They were cursed, wretched beings. And they never failed to not believe those words.

Bertholdt remained solemn over the years, recollecting images of his past life, spending most of his time scribbling gibberish names on his notebook when he was supposed to be writing down notes. Her name, or what he thought was her name, was scribbled on the top of his notebook, engraved deep into the colored cardboard.

Some would think he was just in love with his girlfriend. Some would laugh at how childish he was. But no, _she_ was driving his batshit insane. In his dreams, he would see her face for a slight second, and she would whisper it into his ear, and Bertholdt would literally feel the chills running up and down his spine.

She was there. No matter if it were a chain of dreams, or just a plain reality. She was alive in this life. But he couldn't find her.

X

It was New Year's Eve, and Bertholdt had declined the invitation of the party he was supposed to be going to. Reiner was disappointed in his friend, but he sighed and let him off the hook. Maybe Reiner would get lucky anyways. He didn't need Bertholdt hanging around for that, did he?

So instead, Bertholdt walked around the campus, wishing he didn't lie of going to a coffee shop to wait for Reiner's dorm key. It was flipping cold. The small town was being layered in snow, and the night air was blistering, making Bertholdt's fingers numb.

So here he was, outside, trying to find an open coffee shop, seeking warmth. There had to be something open at the stupid college. There had to be some poor person who had to take the night shift on New Year's Eve. Bertholdt turned the corner to the main street, hoping for some signs of life, but frowned when he realized the main street was completely dark except for the flickering flourescent street lights on the side of the road.

Bertholdt figured that. He huffed and passed multiple coffee shops, and scratched his neck. Maybe he should go back to Reiner and ask for the damn key before he freezes to death in the god forsaken place.

And that's what he was going to do, until he heard the crackle of ice at the road up.

Bertholdt froze. Being alone at night with no shops open was creepy enough as it was. He didn't need mysterious noises. Bertholdt began to sweat, and he did what most people shouldn't do in horror movies.

"Hello?" Bertholdt called out.

No answer. Now at this point in time, Bertholdt recalled, most people would investigate and get murdered. And yet, that stupid crackle of ice was urging him to take a look.

Bertholdt shook his dead, "I'm an idiot, I'm going to die." He began to walk slowly to the empty street. He hoped to god the murderer couldn't smell fear.

His heart was pounding, and he began to sweat. Well, that was normal for him, but it was worse this time. Bertholdt continued to hear the cracking of ice when he remembered.

There's a bridge on that road that leads out of town. Like a Silent Hill bridge. The one that can cause death from a fall.

That bridge was known for multiple suicides in the past decade. Most people steered clear of that. Some say it was haunted. Some say that it was a source of bad luck. Some passed it to get into the town.

But he knew this wasn't a murderer. And he didn't believe in ghosts either. This was definitely an attempt.

Bertholdt didn't think before he slipped on the ice, scrambling towards the bridge where he guessed right. There was a figure on the edge of the bridge, staring down into its fathomless pits.

"Hey, wait!" Bertholdt called out, scaring the figure on the bridge. The figure nearly slipped, making Bertholdt hold his breath and letting it out when they balanced themselves.

The person turned to Bertholdt, a scared look in their eyes. Bertholdt immediately recognized this person as a woman. The figure was tall, sort of masculine, but none the less, ready to die.

"Go away." The woman yelled, almost in a threatened tone, "I don't want you here!"

Bertholdt began to panic, "Please don't do it. You have so much to live for."

The woman laughed, "How so? How can I live when my parents aren't willing to take me back. They hate me, my friends hate me, everyone hates me. I'm a talentless piece of shit who..." She trailed off, "Why the hell am I telling you anyway? You don't care."

Bertholdt gulped, "Yes I do. I know I don't know you, and I've never seen you before. But please, I care. Maybe we can go grab a coffee some time. We can talk. I'm a good listener. I can help."

"That's what my therapist said. Turns out he was just a...a worthless piece of shit who just worked for the money. He said he could help. Ran away with all my money."

"You don't need to pay me. I can help you for free. We can talk. We can become friends. You can become friends with my friends. Just...please come down. We can go sit down and talk." Bertholdt pleaded. He was on the verge of tears. He did not want to see another death. Especially one in reality.

The woman stared at him, "Why would you care? How can you help?"

"I've seen, so many deaths before. Some that were my fault. Some that were unstoppable." He looked away, "I've just wanted to stop that, okay? I want to help someone, who's just messed up in the head as I am. Maybe we can understand each other."

"So now you're calling me crazy."

"No!" Bertholdt growled at himself, "I'm saying that if we speak to each other, maybe we can understand each other. If you keep living, there are surely to be people who will like you. Even love you! Your parents will come around eventually, and we can find something you're good at. You can't just give up so easily!" He nearly screamed that part.

The woman tensed. They stood as still as statues for what seemed like a slow eternity. The woman looked at him, and sighed.

She turned around and hopped onto the road, slipping on the ice, and falling on her side.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bertholdt rushed to her side immediately, only to see her hood drooped to her side and her brown hair bundled up into a hair clip.

She turned and Bertholdt's mouth dropped. The woman was exactly the woman Bertholdt had killed in his past life. Same brown hair, same hair clip, same skin tone, same small brown eyes, and same goddamn freckles.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just bruised my ass." The woman said. Bertholdt held a hand to the woman, helping her up. "Thanks."

"I don't think there's any coffee shops open. We can stop by my place. We have a lot of coffee." Bertholdt said, almost mesmerized by the woman. There she was. Here she was. He found her. He finally found her.

"That sounds fine." The woman said quietly, rubbing her red swollen eyes. Bertholdt realized the small sweatshirt she was wearing, the skinny jeans and the sneakers. How was this girl not cold? He took off his jacket and gave it to her.

"Thanks..." She said, nestling into the already heated jacket.

"You seem pretty shaken up." Bertholdt observed the woman's shaking legs and lack of strength. It was probably the cold, but then again, this girl tried to kill herself, "Do you want me to carry you?"

The woman didn't say anything. She just watched as Bertholdt kneeled in front of her. "Get on." She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck and he stood, grabbing her legs and guiding them to his torso.

"We'll talk when we get to my dorm. Until then, just relax." Bertholdt reassured and the woman buried her face into his shoulder blade.

X

He stopped at a door which was not his door, and knocked. Inside he could hear muffled music, and then a wave of club music blasted over him when the door opened, revealing his other friend, Annie. She was as stoic as ever, but in her eyes, he could see that she was tipsy.

"Bert, what the hell are you doing here?" She hiccupped, "I thought you weren't coming."

"I'm not." Bertholdt replied, "Where's Reiner. I need the key."

She hiccupped again and smiled, "He won't be out for a while."

"Jesus Christ." Bertholdt rolled his eyes, "Just go in there and get the god damn thing. I don't care if he's getting lucky. I need that key."

Annie snorted, "Jeez if you need it so much, just get it yourself."

She was getting him nowhere. He could feel the woman on his back shift, lifting her head up slightly.

Annie squinted at her, "Who the hell is she?"

Just then, Bertholdt spotted the only sober one in the room, "Hey, Armin!"

The blonde whipped to the sound of his voice, "Oh, Bert?"

As the blonde neared, he glanced at Annie, "Babe, I think you've done enough, go lay down." Annie smiled when he kissed her cheek and stumbled away.

"What's up?" He asked Bertholdt, leaning against the door casually.

"Okay, I need you to get Eren or someone willing to go get the key from Reiner." Bertholdt explained.

Armin stared at him, "Are you kidding? He's been in there for about an hour! He's pretty into it."

Bertholdt gagged, "Okay, whatever. Get Eren, or Jean, and go in there and get that key. I need it."

Armin glanced at the woman on his back. Armin wasn't a pervert, and he knew for a fact that the puffy eyes the woman had didn't mean Bertholdt was going to get lucky tonight. It was an act of caring. Armin looked back at Bertholdt, "Yeah, I'll get them."

After a while, two drunk boys stumbled to the door, "So you want us to get a key from the very lucky Reiner, eh?" Jean punched Eren in the arm.

"He's sooooo lucky." The two boys laughed at their dumb joke.

"Yeah, can you do it, like, right now?" Bert asked, getting impatient.

"Sure!" The both squealed as they ran back into the dorm.

Bertholdt waited and then listened to the door opening abruptly, Eren screamed, "He's asswipe, where's your dorm key?"

Reiner, "Hey, what the hell, get out of here!"

A crash, a woman squeal.

"Bert needs the dorm key! Where's the damn key!" Jean blubbered loudly.

"It's in my damn pants pocket, now get out!"

Another crash. A door slamming.

Eren and Jean came back with the key, "Here ya go, Bert." Jean sang, leaning on Eren for support.

"Thanks." Bertholdt said, snatching the key away from the two drunkards. "Now keep away from any hot girls, don't want to burst into flames, now do you?"

Eren looked at him, his eyes drooping, "Wha?"

"Idiots." Bertholdt turned away, "Thanks for your help."

"By the way, Reiner's pissed!" The two chimed, slamming the door shut behind them.

Bertholdt rolled his eyes, and a voice spoke in his ear, making him shiver.

"You have lovely friends." The woman spoke softly.

"They're a lot smarter than that." Bertholdt reassured. They got to his dorm and he opened the door, walking into the desperately cleaned room though Reiner's clothes were sprawled everywhere.

He let the woman down, "You can sit on the couch."

Immediately, he began to make a caramel machiatto, slightly eyeing the woman who stared at the glass coffee table. She seemed uneasy, and he didn't know what to do.

She stayed silent until he brought her the coffee. She stared at the cup in her hands.

"I...I hope you like caramel machiatto." Bertholdt rubbed his head, sitting next to the woman.

She took a sip, her eyes widening, "Wow."

"Thanks." Bertholdt said quickly.

The two sat silently until the woman rested the cup in her lap, "So...Bertholdt, was it?"

"Yeah. You can call me Bert." He sighed, and then remembered, "I didn't catch your name."

"Ymir." She looked at the dark haired boy, "Just Ymir."

And just like that, Bertholdt recognized her immediately. That was the name. Ymir. For so long, he had wanted to know that name, and for so long, he couldn't say it.

And now he could. "Ymir..." He liked the way it felt when he said it, "That's a pretty name."

Ymir snorted, "Really? My parents named me after a man who liked sucking on cow utters. But thanks anyway."

Bertholdt shrugged, "Actually, this man, Ymir, was born as poison that poured into cold rivers."

"Yeah, I know, and then he births a six headed beast from his armpits and legs. Yeah, don't remind me." Ymir sighed and leaned back.

"You said you'd listen." Ymir sighed, "You want to listen now?"

Bertholdt nodded, "I'm fine. You can vent to me about anything."

Ymir smiled, "Thanks. You know, my parents had always hated me. Thus my name. I usually spent my time outside, though that wasn't very safe. I lived in a really bad part of the city...But I had friends. We played like any normal children do. But then of course my drunk dad ruined everything. He kept me locked away, I couldn't do shit. I could only come out to eat. My mother was driven away, and he married a hooker." SHe snorted, "You know what her name was? Daffodil Violet. I'm pretty sure she faked it.

"Anyways, they treated me like horse shit. They beat me, yelled at me, took things away. They were...bad people. That damned prostitute even tried to sell me once. Thankfully I knew how to fight. She sold me, and I ran back home. I don't even know why I ran back. I should've just left right then."

Ymir shook her head, "But, I was a dumb ten year old, and I went back home, seeking the love and nurture I needed. But instead receive praise on how they could sell me more and get more money. I was like their little circus act. Get sold, beat the person up, go home, repeat. In highschool, I had some friends. Then they'd see my house, my lifestyle. Bye bye friends. So then I started saving up for college. I graduated with good grades, but no family to support me. They kicked me out, and I walked all the way to here. It was my first week here, and I had no idea what I was doing. Why go to college when I can't do anything?"

Bertholdt let every word sink in. This woman has had one hell of a life and barely managed to survive it.

"I still don't know what to do." Ymir sighed, "Do I live my life and see where it takes me? Or do I just get it over with."

"All things good come to those who wait." Bertholdt said, "Listen, I know that you've had one hell of a broken ride getting here, so why stop now. IT might have been a crappy start, but look at you. You're in college. A grown adult. You live to your own expectations. No one is going to degrade you. It's just...your time now."

Ymir sighed, "I guess you're right. But you know what? It seems like everyone's in a rut. Be birthed, elementary, junior high, highschool, college, work. Then by the time you retire you're too worn to do anything so you just wait til you die."

Bertholdt stopped, "That was very...poetic. And really accurate."

Ymir shrugged, "Yeah, reality's a bitch."

"You said you liked fighting, right?" Bertholdt asked.

"Did it for most of my life."

"There's a...don't laugh at me, but there's an aggressive dancing class. It's a credit. And well, if you get good grades, you can make it your major. Of course you'd have to take hip hop, ballet, jazz or something."

"Maybe." Ymir sipped at her coffee, "What are you majoring for?"

Bertholdt paused, "Well, I was thinking of being a journalist. I've been good at writing and stuff."

"You say it like it's a bad thing." Ymir said.

Bertholdt seemed stricken, but then he sighed, "Maybe it is."

"You said it yourself. You're an adult. This is your time." SHe glanced at him, "What do you really want to do, Bertholdt?"

He paused and gripped his cup, "I want to draw."

"Why'd you say you wanted to be a journalist?"

"My parents."

"They're not in charge of you. You be an artist. You're independent now." Ymir said, setting her cup down, "If you want, we can both go down to the office and change our courses."

"Really?" Bertholdt asked. "Thanks."

"Whatever." Ymir said, standing, "I better get going. We should meet up at the fountain. In the foyer."

Bertholdt stood as well, "Thank you. And I really appreciate you talking to me."

She smirked, "It's just another girl's problem. Why aren't you annoyed?"

"Because I respect a woman."

Ymir's eyes widened, her cheeks slightly turning red, "Well, bye." SHe let herself out, slamming the door behind her.

Bertholdt stared at the closed door, confused, but happy that he found the girl he lost hundreds of thousands of years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Bertholdt walked out of his bedroom to see Reiner passed out on the couch, smiling in his sleep. Bertholdt rolled his eyes, taking a blanket and covering Reiner's half-naked body.

He wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

Bertholdt sighed, taking Reiner's notebooks and shoving them into his bag, knowing he'd have to take his notes for him. Of course, Bertholdt didn't mind. He was always a fast writer and to top that off, he could write anything down as soon as the professor spoke. It was a trait he picked up in highschool, when Reiner would almost always sleep during the teacher's lectures, and would always get yelled at for not having notes for the tests, thus failing the class. So Bertholdt took the opportunity to help his friend and take his notes whenever.

Bertholdt left his dorm, heading out to the blistering cold winds outside. The town was now layered in a blanket of white fluff, the cars in the streets flicking up slush, college students trudging through the snow. Most of them didn't seem very happy, including Bertholdt, who was more of a summer person than a winter. He never really liked the cold, something about it making him feel lonely inside. Most cold days he would take a walk alone, just to clear his thoughts. It was more of a daily routine in the winter, especially since the north carried long and harsh winters. Bertholdt didn't like his urges to go into the cold just to take a stroll through the heavy snow. They always lead to blistering hot showers or in some cases, a fever. Reiner thought he was crazy. Sometimes Bertholdt did too.

As he neared the fountain, he recognized the same figure he saw last night, only bundled in a small coat and a scarf. How the hell was she not cold?

Ymir glanced at him, scanning his heavy coat and winter attire. She snorted, "You look like a mushroom."

Bertholdt raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

She pointed to his clothing, "Well for one, you have a marshmallow coat on, a scarf, and hat." She then dropped her hand, "Then these long legs. A mushroom."

"Thanks." Bertholdt looked at her face. Her face showed no sign coldness, and she wasn't even shivering, "How are you not cold?"

She shrugged, "Guess I'm used to it. I've always been a winter person." She sighed, "Just in my blood I guess."

Bertholdt pursed his lips. Of course she'd be used to it. She spent years walking god knows how far to get back to her 'home'. Through any kind of weather. HE quickly changed the subject, "Well, why don't we go see the...the..."

"Administrator." Ymir finished.

"Thanks."

Together they walked into the building, Bertholdt relieved feeling the warm air on his frozen skin. Ymir grimaced, not taking in the heat, then turned her attention to the small Starbucks store in the foyer. She wanted one bad, but it looked like everyone and their mother's wanted a coffee.

Noticing Ymir's intense glare on the shop, he nudged her, "What, do you want one?"

Ymir jumped, glancing at him, "Well yeah, who wouldn't." She shoved her hands in her pocket, walking away quickly, "I'll get one later when the line dies down."

Bertholdt stifled a laugh. So she liked coffee. Well, everyone does, but she seemed like an addict. He caught up with her, keeping the pace. At least she was addicted to caffeine rather that cocaine.

As they walked, Ymir began to strip her jacket and scarf off, shoving them into her bag. Now that Bertholdt looked at her, she was really skinny. He'd only seen her with a over-sized hoodie one, but this. But he knew that if anyone messed with her, they'd have to go to the hospital on serious terms. That skinniness was due to a high metabolism and long years of strength training all by herself.

Ymir stopped, frowning, "Are you going to keep staring at me like that?" She gave a cold glare, "It's freaking me out, giving me the chills, you know?"

Bertholdt looked away, "Sorry." He said, touching his face. It was hot.

She continued to stare at him, lifting an eyebrow, "Whatever." She nudged him in the ribcage, grinning slightly.

He smiled back and they both entered the administrative office. The woman at the desk looked up immediately, smiling like she was programmed to do that every time she looked up, "Hello, what can I do for you two?"

"Schedule change." Ymir said immediately, all of the sudden in control, "Where can I talk to someone about it?"

She pointed to a room in the back, "Mr. Dok is in the back. You can just head on in."

Ymir didn't smile, "Thanks." Bertholdt watched as she walked away, not giving him any sign of leaving so suddenly. It's like she didn't know him. She just left, not looking behind her.

"And you?"

Bertholdt turned back to the smiling woman, getting paranoid of her masochistic smile, "Uh, same. I need a schedule change."

She directed him to a man named Mr. Pixis, or something. He thanked her and walked into the room to which she directed him.

He noticed the old bald man sitting in a huge chair most villains would sit in. He had a thick mustache and old wise eyes, flicking up to Bertholdt's presence.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" Mr. Pixis asked, leaning back into his chair, away from his computer.

"Schedule change."

"Oh." Mr. Pixis looked surprised, like people didn't get schedule changes, "What did you have in mind?"

Bertholdt set his schedule down, "I want to change my journalism class to an art class. Preferably a 2-D art class."

Mr. Pixis turned back to his computer, "Let me see what I can do. What's your name?"

"Bertholdt Fubar."

The man nodded, typing away in his computer, "The only class open is a class that begins at noon, but you have the Art of Poetry. Lucky for you, they both have a spot opened, and you can switch the classes. Would you like to do that?"

"Yeah. I would" Bertholdt agreed.

"Okay, your Poetry class is now at nine fifteen, is that okay?"

Bertholdt nodded.

"Okay, let me print out your schedule, and your classes begin tomorrow. Take your regular classes today, and skip the two that changed. I'll e-mail your professor's, so you don't need to worry about that."

Bertholdt took his new schedule, "Thank you."

"Take care, Mr. Fubar."

When Bertholdt returned to the lobby, he noticed Ymir leaning against the wall, staring at the piece of paper in her hands.

She looked up, "Did you get it changed?"

"Yep." He waved his schedule around, "Hey when's your next class? We can go get some coffee if you'd like."

Her face brightened, and she grinned nastily, "Thanks. Yeah, and my class starts at nine fifteen. But I don't have the class until tomorrow."

Bertholdt looked at his paper, blinking in confusion, "What's your class?"

"Art of Poetry, why?" Ymir questioned.

Bertholdt smiled in excitement, "Cool, that's what I have."

Ymir snorted, "Why are you getting so worked up?"

He shrugged, "Cause I'm with my friend."

Ymir looked at him, eyes wide, "You think of me as your friend?"

"What else would you be?"

Ymir did her nasty grin again, "Well, I thought of you as an annoying acquaintance."

Bertholdt huffed, acting offended, "That's it, I'm not buying you coffee."

Ymir's expression changed from sassy to horrified in a half a second, "No, please, I'm sorry." She grabbed his sleeve, "I'm sorry, friend, you're not annoying. I want free coffee, please forgive me."

Bertholdt began to laugh hysterically, "Oh my God, you really love your coffee. You'd do anything for coffee, that's great."

Ymir punched his arm, "Yes, I do love my coffee, now shut up."

Bertholdt held his hands up in surrender, stifling his laughs as Ymir pushed him towards the slightly less busy Starbucks.

X

After a couple minutes of waiting, Ymir happily held her Vanilla Latte in her hands, sighing with relief. Thank God, now she wouldn't be cranky.

She sipped it and watched as Bertholdt popped a cake pop in his mouth.

She smirked, "Cake pops for breakfast?"

He stopped chewing, "I call it Breakfast Dessert. I already had morning food."

"Morning food, huh?" Ymir snickered, "Alright, whatever."

They sat in silence for a while, both sipping at their coffees. Ymir then put her cup down, "So, Bert, I haven't learned much about you."

Bertholdt glanced at her, setting his styrofoam cup down, "I don't think there's much to say. Just a boy in college."

"No." Ymir said, "I told you about me, now you tell me about yourself. That's how friends work, right?"

Bertholdt shrugged, "Alright. Well, I was a smart child, and I met my two friends in elementary, stayed together til highschool, and somehow ended up at the same college."

"Okay, were these two friends that drunk girl from last night and the 'lucky guy'?" Ymir made air quotes, making Bertholdt laugh.

"Yeah, those two. Annie and Reiner. We just stuck together. I never really had any other friends. College came and I met other friends. Annie found love, and Reiner is making an attempt." He laughed. "But yeah, raised from a strict family, they made me join theatre, choir, band. Anything. Even if I had to stay after school to do them. It was pretty much hell. I wasn't really good at them anyway. I have stage fright, I can't sing, and I can't even pound on a simple snare drum." He shook his head, "But I really loved art. Mom always supported me, Dad not so much, but whatever." He shrugged.

"Are you an only child?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's why." Ymir said, "They wanted their only child to become very successful. They only want to support you. I'd give anything for parents like that."

"Yeah?" Bertholdt grinned, "Maybe you can meet them one day."

"Maybe." Ymir agreed.

X

After their coffee break, they headed outside. Bertholdt frowned, pulling his scarf around his face as he shivered. Ymir just inhaled and smiled.

"Well, I need to head back to my dorm if we aren't doing anything else. Wanna meet Reiner?" Bertholdt asked, pointing to the building in which he resided.

She shrugged, "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Ymir followed the tall boy, shuffling behind him. His boots left foot prints in the snow, and Ymir retraced them, stepping in his tracks. She realized that her foot was, well, she didn't know how small, but the difference between her foot and Bertholdt's was just weird. She stared at the tracks and continued to jump between them. She leapt from each one, wondering why this boy had to take such long strides.

She hopped up the stairs, and Bertholdt took notice of her childish acts. She really was a snow person. There was no way she was like this in the summer. It's wash away her snarky ego.

He smiled to himself, a small blush rising on his cheeks.

They entered his dorm, only to find Reiner still on the couch except he was now focused on the TV that blared loudly.

"Hey, Reiner!" Bertholdt nearly yelled to get the blonde's attention.

He glanced at him, "Oh. Hey, Bert."

The two walked in, and Reiner's gaze shifted to Ymir. His eyes widened and he pulled the blanket onto his body, "Bert? Who is this?"

"Oh." Bertholdt noticed Reiner's embarrassment, "This is Ymir."

"Hey." Ymir said, waving a hand.

"Hi." Reiner said, then turning back to Bertholdt, "You should've told me about company, I could've gotten dressed."

"I don't mind." Ymir said, speaking before Bertholdt, "Naked or clothed, I don't care. Whatever's comfortable, right?"

Reiner stared at her, squinting his eyes, "Yeah..." He said, while slowly removing his blanket.

Ymir's eyes widened, clapping her hands to her mouth, "Oh my God!" She screeched.

Reiner squealed, clasping the blanket to his chest, "What?! You said that you were comfortable-"

He was interrupted by Ymir's loud hyena laughter, clutching her stomach, "Oh my God, that was great!" She waved him off, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just take the blanket off, I'm okay. Jesus that was funny."

Reiner stared at her, mouth agape, "Your lady friend nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry." Bertholdt shrugged again.

Reiner stood, walking towards the smallish Ymir, "Okay, funny joke. Anyways, I'm Reiner. Reiner Braun." He stuck out his hand.

"Thanks." Ymir said, shaking his big callused hand.

"Nice sense of humor you got there."

"Thanks I got it myself." Ymir grinned.

"I think you'll get along." Bertholdt smiled at their introduction as they started to talk about sports.

X

Ymir left about ten minutes later, and Bertholdt sat Reiner down on the couch.

"Reiner, who does she look like?" Bertholdt said excitedly.

He raised an eyebrow, "I don't know, Ymir?"

"No." Bertholdt shook his head, "I've described her before. Remember?"

Reiner paused, looking at the coffee table, "Do you mean...The girl we saw die in the past?"

Bertholdt stopped, his excitement vanishing as he recalled Ymir's face being smashed to bloody bits, "Yeah...her."

"So you finally found her, huh?" Reiner said, taking a swig of water. He grimaced, "Does she know?"

"I don't know." Bertholdt sighed, "But I know this is her. I know it for a fact."

Reiner looked at him, "So, are you planning on getting attached? How are you going to break it to her? 'Hey, by the way, I watched you die over a thousand years ago by these huge naked people, and well, I was one of them, and you were too, and I kind of got you killed.'. She'll think you're crazy. You have to make her remember, Bert."

Bertholdt stared at him, "Reiner, who said I was going to get attached?"

"Bert, you've been trying to find this chick ever since you were born! How are you not attached yet?" Reiner began to raise his voice, "Sooner or later you're going to have to break it to her. But how? You have to make her remember." Reiner said, "You can't just say it, Bert. You'll lose her that quickly."

Bertholdt stared at his friend's lips as he said it one last time, "You. Have. To. Make. Her. Remember."

**Author's note: I just realized I don't know anything about college. I'm in highschool. Jeez, well, if you know more about college and I'm doing something wrong, by all means tell me that something's wrong. I would appreciate it.**


	3. Chapter 3

"You have to make her remember."

Bertholdt stared up at his ceiling, watching the fan going round and round in circles. He woke from a nightmare, and he couldn't go to sleep after. It had been the same, just like all the nightmare's he had in the past.

The nightmare haunted him for years. Him killing people, destroying homes, betraying his friends. He was the enemy of all mankind, a murderer to millions, and Bertholdt had to live with that even after he had passed.

Reincarnation was strange. Bertholdt could easily have been a carpenter in that time period, or even a soldier that would die with dignity. He would be okay with even that. He began to count off how many people he had killed. People that he knew.

His friends in this time period didn't even know...

He wanted it to stay like that. No matter what, Eren, Armin, Jean, everybody...they could not find out. Never.

Bertholdt rolled onto his side, focusing on the bright red numbers on his digital clock. 6:45. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

He had killed her. He found her, killed her, and found her again. He'd be damned if he could do it again. And it could. And yet, Bertholdt wanted to be with her. Her snarky attitude showed him that it was really her, and it brought some feeling into his body. Hope, he guessed.

But how the hell was he supposed to make her remember? Like Reiner said, he couldn't just tell her right off the bat. She would deem him as crazy and never speak to him again.

It was a careful matter. And he had no idea how he could even do it. He could doodle on the paper of himself transformed into the Colossal Titan, and maybe she'd recognize it.

That could work. Bertholdt would try that.

He began to focus on one wing of the fan, rolling his eyes in time with the fan, making him dizzy. He wanted to get up. But he wanted to go back to sleep. What was he supposed to do until 9:15?

Bertholdt kicked his blankets away from his body, sliding off his bed and stumbling to a standing position. He walked out of his room, and noticed the TV on mute but still on, and Reiner snoring loudly. As always, his position was strange. One leg thrown over the couch, one falling off the couch, an arm grasping the remote in a death grip, and the other behind his head, acting as a pillow.

Bertholdt rolled his eyes, and nudged Reiner's side, "Dude, go to sleep in your bed." He said, yawning.

Reiner twitched and groaned, "Why the hell should I? I like it here better than my bed."

"Well, I want to watch TV. You don't have classes until noon, now get off." Bertholdt pushed Reiner's back with his foot, making him fall off the couch and into the heap of blankets below.

He groaned yet again, slowly crawling to his feet, "Fine. Make me bacon, will you?"

"Make your own bacon." Bertholdt sat on the couch, propping his legs on the coffee table, "I'm not your maid."

Reiner let out a small sleepy chuckle, and then a door slammed, leaving Bertholdt alone with the TV.

Turning off mute, Bertholdt turned the channel to the news channel, where the normal weather report was shown. He groaned at the TV. Of course, once again there would be another snow storm tonight. They'd probably get snowed in.

Bertholdt began to go off into his own world, staring at the television with no brain activity to even let him tune into what was happening in the capital city up North. He really didn't care.

Bertholdt began to close his eyes when a headline snapped his attention. 'Breaking news, yet another victim has commit suicide by falling off the bridge in Lawrence. This is the first suicide this year, continuing from the seven deaths last year."

Bertholdt's heart dropped. She didn't. She couldn't had just saved her three days ago. There was no way that she gave up again. And after he had found her too... He jumped up from the couch, beginning to panic. He didn't know what to do. His brain did, however. And then he was running towards the door. His hand grabbed the doorknob, turning it and swinging the door open...

He stopped. He held his breath at the woman in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes, her fist in mid-air as if to knock on the door.

He exhaled, leaning against the door and cupping his hand to his face. "Oh my God..." He breathed, his heart returning to its regular heart rate.

Ymir's hand dropped, "Hey, are you okay? It's like you knew I was here or something. That was weird."

"It's not that. I just..." Bertholdt sighed, "I had to do something."

Ymir raised an eyebrow, smirking, "In your boxers?"

He looked down, realizing what he was wearing. "Jesus!" He exclaimed, running back into his dorm and wrapping a blanket around his body.

"Why are you here, anyways?" Bertholdt asked, returning to Ymir, "I mean, it's not like I don't mind."

Ymir shrugged, inviting herself in. "I don't know. Isn't this what friends do? Drop by at the crack of dawn? For no reason?"

Bertholdt shook his head, "No, i guess. Where did you hear this?"

Ymir sat on the couch, "My roommate, Krista, always leaves early with food. She's popular, and she just has a lot of good friends I guess."

Bertholdt smiled, "You mean Krista Lenz?" Ymir nodded, "You know that she works at Starbucks and brings food for the other employees, right?"

Ymir pursed her lips, "So...she was just doing that for work?"

Bertholdt nodded, and Ymir exhaled, "Well, whatever. I'm here now, right?"

Bertholdt smiled slightly, and sat next to her, both focusing on the TV. Ymir stared at the headline on the bottom.

"So...another person dead, huh?" Ymir sighed, biting her lip.

Bertholdt nodded, "Yeah..."

Ymir stared at the headline for sometime, "That's why you were going to leave." She glanced at him, "You thought I was the one who commit suicide. Right?"

Bertholdt didn't say anything.

"Bert, you can't say that you were going to run outside half-naked saying that you had to do something." Ymir said, leaning forward, "You were going to come and see if I was safe, right?"

Bertholdt remained silent, looking away. He couldn't tell if the heat on his cheeks was his embarrassment, or just from the heater blowing on his face. He shouldn't be embarrassed about seeing if she was safe, right? It was an act of caring.

Ymir smirked again, "Well, even if you didn't come and get me, thanks Bert."

Bertholdt shrugged, biting his lip. "Do you want coffee?"

"As long as it's a caramel machiatto." Ymir held up a finger and began to twirl it.

"Got it." Bertholdt stood and headed towards the kitchen.

Ymir then stared at the TV again, staring at the headline. The news would be circulating the campus today, and no one would be able to leave the town let alone get in. But the town was small and the University was small, so more than likely, she probably would have known the person.

Ymir rubbed her head. But who? She knew for a fact that she didn't talk to people that much except for Bert and Krista, but that person could've been in her class.

She sighed, closing her eyes. That person could've been saved if someone like Bert was there to stop them. And even then, that probably wouldn't be enough. If Bert had attempted to save that person instead of her, would he save them? Or would he watch as the body fell to the depths below?

What would've happened to me if Bert didn't save me? Ymir felt tears brimming her eyes, but she wiped them as soon as the tall brunette returned with two coffee cups.

"Thanks." Ymir said quickly, hoping he couldn't hear the cracking of her voice.

They continued to watch the news together. Apparently, both of them didn't really like TV, but when they did, it was usually the news.

When Ymir had finally finished her coffee, she leaned back against the couch,crossing her arms. Bert glanced at her, sensing an uneasy feeling from her. Was she cold?

Another headline popped up that caught Bert's attention. Ymir perked up at the breaking news and they both leaned forward.

'Strange human bones found in Europe.' The white letters fled the screen in an instant.

"Huh." Ymir said, "I wonder what they mean by that."

After a few minutes, the same headline broke through the news cast, and it switched to a woman standing at a digsite near a forest or huge trees.

"I'm here at a digsite in Germany where archeologists are discovering a past that we were unaware of." The camera zoomed into two men dusting off a huge bone, "This femur was found only a day ago, and immediately you can see that this is no ordinary human bone. This bone is about the size of a six foot man. But that is not all, we are getting reports of huge skulls bigger than an elephant." The cameraman followed the woman to the hole where many archeologists were brushing away dust from what seemed to be a large bone. "This here is the skull they are trying to dig out. They say that if they work hard enough with enough people, they can get it out in about a week."

Bertholdt stared at the white bone in the dirt, spotting a small dark spot at the right corner. An eye socket. Bertholdt's eyes widened, covering his mouth with his hand. He began to shake. Was that...? Bertholdt squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sweat drip from his skin. It couldn't be...Weren't they supposed to evaporate when they died? Why were his bones...

"Hey, Bert, are you okay?" Ymir asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

No, I killed you. He tore away from her, shaking harshly.

"Bert..." Ymir stared at him, watching him shake with fear, "It's just some bones."

Bertholdt stared at the ground, "Yeah...Just some bones..." Bertholdt wiped his face, "Sorry, I just..." He shook his head, "It's nothing."

Ymir stared at him, a slight worried expression on her face. She turned away, grabbing the remote, turning the TV off, "I think that's enough news for today, yeah?"

Bertholdt nodded in agreement, "I need to...I need to get dressed." Bertholdt stood and ran into his room closing the door, sliding to the ground. Just when his life was suddenly lighting up, that damned reminder made his day.

X

Ymir stared at the boy who stood in front of her, wrapping a scarf around his neck. Ymir thought he had a pretty neck, and she didn't really like the fact that he was covering it up.

Bertholdt had walked out of his room about fifteen minutes after his weird breakdown. Ymir bit her lip. Long legs, long torso, muscular arms. She tried to look away. But the way his shirt just...Ugh. She sighed a little too loudly, making Bertholdt turn to look at her.

"What's wrong?" He asked, tugging at his scarf.

She hesitated, turning away, "It's nothing." Nothing. Nothing at all. Ymir glanced at him once more, hoping he wasn't going to put that god awful coat on...

He was. Ymir internally groaned, wishing that the damned jacket didn't make him look like a mushroom. He was attractive. But this just bothered her. It was to the point that it made her think that if she pushed him over, he would struggle like a turtle trying to get back up.

She'd test that out later.

"Are you ready to go?" Bertholdt asked, slipping on his boots.

Ymir nodded, "Yeah."

They left the dorm, and into the outside world. Bertholdt shivered and Ymir just breathed in the cold air, smirking at Bertholdt's lack of warmth.

"I'm surprised you're cold, Mr. Mushroom." Ymir teased.

"I'm surprised you're not." Bertholdt huffed, easing into his scarf.

"Weenie." Ymir huffed.

"I'm not a weenie." He said, nudging her, "I'm just a summer guy."

"Explains your tan."

"Then what about you, Ms. Winter?"

"I'm naturally tan." Ymir shrugged, "And just because I like winter doesn't mean I hate summer. I go out occasionally."

Bertholdt snorted, "Yeah, okay."

"I'm serious." Ymir punched his layered arm. He probably didn't even feel it.

X

The lecture for the Art of Poetry nearly killed Ymir. She leaned forward, her head resting in her arms. No notes were taken, but Ymir didn't really care. This stuff was too easy. She just wished the professor was more fun. The monotonous voice carried around the lecture hall, and Ymir was dozing off.

She glanced at Bertholdt for the fiftieth time to see what he was doing. Strange. Only a couple of minutes ago was he scribbling every single word the professor said. Now here he was, doodling on a clean sheet of paper.

She sat up, glancing at his paper again to get a better look. On the paper, there was what seemed to be a wall. And then some kind of giant peering over it, like it was playing peek-a-boo or something. Then there were little stick figures with giant boxes on their hips, with some sort of lines coming out of their stomachs or something.

Ymir raised an eyebrow at the small doodles. Artist's had some pretty weird imaginations.

Meanwhile, Bertholdt glanced at Ymir, realizing Ymir was staring right at his drawings. Hopefully it would spark some memories.

He sighed when she shrugged and rested her head on her arms, burrowing her face into her sleeves. She had no say in his small doodles. Nothing.

Bertholdt snapped his notebook shut and began to claw at his hair, wishing that making her remember was much more simple.

**Author's Note: Hey guys! So, just wanted to say thank you for all who follow my story, and I'd also like to thank the BeruYumi tag on Tumblr to get me started on this. By the way, I wanted to make it clear that I have this headcanon that the Titan Shifter's bones don't evaporate when they die, thus explaining Bert's flashback. Also, if you want me to include a prompt in here, feel free to leave it in the reviews. It would help me a lot!**


End file.
